The Last Supper
by The Beanster
Summary: Could this actually be the end of Hannibal Lector? Maybe. Maybe not.


Lecter's Last Supper  
Chapter 1: Love undercover  
  
a/n: Hannibal Lecter and Clarisse Starling are not my characters. The rest of the characters are mine and are not meant to have any resemblance to people living or dead. I couldn't possibly think of who might not have seen this movie yet, but if you haven't this fic does contain spoilers.  
  
  
It had been years since Clarisse Starling had left the bureau. Her last encounter with Dr Lecter had changed her entire perspective of the things that it represented. She was just never the same. She, of course, had never forgotten Hannibal for one minute, but now she felt as if she needed to rebuild, to start from scratch.  
  
She had chosen a new name, and a new home outside a small town in Wyoming. She had hoped she would never be recognized. After all, even though Diana Hawkins may have resembled the great special agent Clarisse Starling, her hair color was blond, and she wore thin glasses. She lived basically in seclusion, and after all these years, she begin to feel secure with her indemnity.  
  
Her living was mostly supplied by a highly advanced home security system that she had developed and later sold to a private vendor. With the generous offer, she purchased several stocks in reputable companies, and made a decent profit. Now, she lived alone in the mountains entirely in seclusion. People rarely came to her home except to make deliveries or repairs for whatever needs she might incur.  
  
Although, she enjoyed her privacy, she did not live as a complete nomad. She, of course, kept up with current events, including Dr Lecter's active and potent career of dementia, cannibalism, and evading capture. It hurt her deeply to know that Lecter continued his feasting spree while completely eluding the authorities. A pang of grief for Lecter's victims pulsed through her each time she heard a mention of a half-eaten and brutally mutilated corpse. But she could no longer be of assistance. She had seen and heard more than she had ever wanted since she had been associated with Dr Lecter. For now, she was content to her own pursuits.  
  
One day, while she was out for her daily jog, she was mildly stunned to see that she was being approached from the opposite direction by a man on a gorgeous quarterhorse. Her pace slowed as he came to her with the steed at a canter.  
  
"Hello," he began with more than pleased smile pursing his lips. "You must be my neighbor."  
  
She smiled back pleasantly, "Yes, I suppose I am. My name is Diane Hawkins. And your name, sir?"  
  
He brought the horse to a stop and directed him to turn to the left. He reached down a tanned hand, and Clarisse took it slowly. She hadn't had almost any physical contact with anyone since the night Dr Lecter had kissed her at Paul's chateau. For a moment, her memory took her back to the moment when she saw Dr Lecter remove his own hand in his attempt to escape his impending arrest.  
  
She quickly shook off the memory, and politely took the stranger's hand. "I'm David Carson. I've bought the Johnson ranch just a couple miles down from here."  
  
"Oh well, welcome to the neighborhood Mr Carson. Do you breed horses, sir?" Clarisse questioned making idle small talk.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," he answered with a wider grin. "Moved up here from my uncle's ranch in New Mexico. My specialty is quarterhorses."  
  
"Well, your stag, there, is certainly a beautiful creature."  
  
"Thank you, ma'am," David answered flattered. "This was my first colt. His name is Atlas."  
  
"Well, it was nice meeting you Mr Carson, but I must get back to my run." Clarisse started to jaunt off.  
  
"Uh, Miss Hawkins," David spoke as she ran past him. Clarisse stopped and grabbed her knees, hoping that he couldn't see that she was beginning to become annoyed.  
  
"Yes, Mr Carson?"  
  
"This might be a bit forward of me, ma'am," he began nervously, "but I was wondering if you would like to come up to my ranch and see the rest of the stock? Perhaps, maybe we could have lunch afterwards?"  
  
Clarisse chuckled to herself. It had been a long time since she had been asked out on a date. She thought carefully for a moment and then decided that she would rather spend her afternoon with Mr Carson than watching the 12 o'clock news latest update on the manhunt for Dr Lecter. She stood and turned slowly. "Mr Carson?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"I would like that, sir. Please allow me to finish my run, go home and get cleaned up, and I will be there shortly."  
  
"Great," David remarked excited, nearly jumping out of his saddle, and stirring his horse. As he regained control of Atlas, he smiled again. "So, shall we call it a date then?"  
  
Clarisse smirked to herself again, and then spoke, "Yes, we can call it a date." 


End file.
